The kitchen was unusually warm, the soft glow of the overhead light casting a cozy hue over the countertops littered with ingredients. Katsuki stood at the stove, sleeves rolled up, a focused look on his face as he checked the heat of the pan. You stood beside him, apron slightly askew, holding a wooden spoon like it was a foreign object.

“This isn’t rocket science,” Katsuki said, glancing over his shoulder at you. His tone was gruff, but the corners of his mouth twitched upward. “Just follow what I tell you, and don’t screw it up.”

You rolled your eyes, holding back a smile. “You’re really selling this whole cooking thing to me, Katsuki.”

He snorted, grabbing your wrist and guiding your hand to the spoon. “If you keep talking, you’ll burn the sauce. Stir it slowly—like this.” His larger hand enveloped yours, moving it in smooth circles over the pot.

You couldn’t help but laugh. “You’re acting like I’m defusing a bomb.”

“Because with you, it might as well be,” he shot back, his smirk fully forming now. Despite the teasing, there was something incredibly patient about the way he stayed close, his hand steadying yours.

As the sauce bubbled, Katsuki turned his attention to the vegetables on the cutting board. “Alright, your turn. Chop these.”

“Don’t you trust me with a knife?” you joked, picking it up.

“Not even a little,” he replied, watching you like a hawk. But when you started chopping with careful precision, he grunted approvingly. “Not bad. Maybe you’re not hopeless after all.”

You grinned, the simple compliment warming you. The air between you felt light, playful, but there was something more in the way Katsuki’s eyes lingered on you when you weren’t looking.